Breathe, And Try Not To Fall
by the lola
Summary: 'It's so hard to resist. You love him. You hate yourself for it, but you do. Love is supposed to be wonderful, but it isn't – it never was and never will be, and fairytales do not exist.'


**Word Count: **1,169

**Challenge/Competition:** The Hunger Games

**Prompts:** Blaise/Pansy, coffee shop, echoes, "Oh, Merlin's pants!", panic

**Warnings: **One swear word, a mention of sex and depiction of an anxiety disorder.

**Disclaimer:** I don't claim to own Harry Potter, it's all JKR's.

**Note:** I'd just like to say, as I do with all sensitive topics I write, that I'd like you all to remember that this mental illness is different for everyone who experiences it. This is based on what I know, so I'm not trying to generalize anxiety disorders in any way. Please remember that as you read :)

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You take a breath – a deep one, the deepest you can possibly manage. You're up, you're out, and you can do this. You can.

It's just a cup of coffee; it's just half an hour of reading a book by yourself. It might not even be busy.

Except, what if it is? You shake your head roughly to yourself, and you clench your hands into balls, releasing as much of your pent up tension as you can.

It's _fine_ Pansy, you tell yourself.

But then you find yourself inside the coffee shop and it's got so many more people than you imagined and you just want to turn around and go home and get into bed and be alone _andandand_ you're panicking. _Shit_.

You hate what you are right now – so weak, just holding on to the fragments of your sanity, walking on glass and waiting for it to shatter underneath you so that you end up falling into the abyss that is your anxiety and never returning.

Just control it; just take a breath – a really deep one, and another, and another, until it's under control. Because Pansy Parkinson won't be this easily defeated, not anymore.

And the woman behind you in the queue is touching your shoulder softly, murmuring an '_are you okay_?' And it gets a lot more panicked and less soft as you don't reply. You don't need help; you just need to be left alone to to calm yourself down. You can't do it with distractions, it makes you panic more. Calming yourself doesn't even take very long anymore… just a few more seconds, that's all you need.

_Breathe. _

Okay. You're okay. You turn to the woman gripping your arm with worried eyes, and you smile as politely as you can. "Sorry, I'm okay." And you could have been nicer, you know.

As someone sneezes, the sound magnifies and echoes around you and so you try to focus on the board in front of you and choose your drink instead of running off to the toilets. _Perseverance, _the therapist says.

So the icy claws of panic start to rise inside of you again, ready to grab your lungs and squeeze them till you're gasping and paralysed with fear, but you resist. You resist and you feel a lot warmer, because progress is progress, no matter how small. And germs make you your worst.

So you order your coffee and you spot a seat in the corner. You make your way over, book tucked under your arm and staring into your coffee so as not to spill it. But you do anyway, as someone bumps right into you.

"Oh, Merlin's pants! I'm so sorry!" A sweet looking old man says sincerely, but he doesn't realize how nervous he's made you_. Just breathe_. "I'll buy you another, what was it?"

"It's okay, and a cappuccino, if you're sure," you mutter in the strongest voice you can muster, offering a small smile before walking quickly towards your desired table.

You try to delve into your book, but you can't really focus. Too much going on, too much is setting you on edge.

"Fancy seeing you here."

And you immediately recognize the voice – both fear and happiness start to rush through your veins within seconds and you force yourself to look up. "Hi, Blaise."

"I haven't seen you in a… while," he comments while sitting down opposite you. A while? Understatement of the year, you haven't seen each other since the war ended and so did the both of you. You keep a straight face and give no reply, prompting him to continue.

"Okay: confession time. I'm not here by coincidence." He smiles in his boyish way, but his features are tinged with nerves.

"Oh really?" you say, sarcastically, folding your trembling hands against the table.

"I just… I wanted to see how you were getting on."

"You? Blaise Zabini… wanted to see how _I _was getting on? Ha." And you can't believe him, because he chooses _now_ to care? This isn't even anything like him, Blaise Zabini does not drop in on you, he just drops you, Blaise Zabini does not care about you, but he'll have sex with you.

"I heard you've been having some… issues. I just wanted to let you know I'm here for you." You can't even tell whether he's sincere or not.

"It's a bit late, Blaise. I could have done with your help and care five months ago. Not now, Blaise, I don't need you anymore," you say, probably harsher than you intended, but you can't help it. Your walls are up, and you're in defensive mode. You have to protect yourself, it's all you know. How can you depend on anyone when even your shadow leaves you in the dark?

"Don't be like that. I know I've been a coward, not wanting to face you, but I just want for us to be okay. And if not, I want for _you _to be okay." He reaches a hand across the table to cover yours.

It's so hard to resist. You love him. You hate yourself for it, but you do. Love is supposed to be wonderful, but it isn't – it never was and never will be, and fairytales do not exist. It's just hard, things deteriorate, you start at the top of a cliff and then you just fall – there's enough obstacles to stop you falling and make you feel safe for a while, but then you keep falling, then you hit the bottom, and then there's nothing. "I'm fine," you mutter through gritted teeth.

"I love you," he uncharacteristically blurts out, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he realizes what's been said.

You sigh, heavily, but you notice you're not trembling anymore. "This is selfish of you, you can't just leave me and then come back and expect me to fall into your arms. It doesn't work like that!"

"I know, and I wish it did but I'm not that stupid. So how about this," he pauses, gauging your reaction, which is inquisitive, and then continues, sticking a hand out to you. "I'm Blaise, how about you?"

And so you roll your eyes. "How original." Then you pause, and you think, and you watch as his face falters that little bit more with every second. Then you decide, because you're supposed to be making changes to your life, and you're supposed to be choosing you and not panic. So you throw yourself in, and you grab a rock on the cliff and know that you can start climbing, but also that it's going to be okay if you do fall. "Hi. I'm Pansy."

You smile, then he smiles, and you start over. It's not perfect – it's never going to be, but it's a try. And trying is all that matters, because it's why you're still alive, and it's why you even ended up in this coffee shop on this day at this time in the first place.

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**AN- **Hope you guys liked this! Please don't forget to review & favourite, it means so much. Wish me luck for this round!


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